


Definitions of Pain

by Keibey



Category: Persona 3
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 18:14:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7064809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keibey/pseuds/Keibey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was no one definition of pain, because there were so many versions of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Definitions of Pain

**Author's Note:**

> Repost from my LJ; full game spoilers ahead!

It hurts.

Every slice of metal through his transformed skin, every blast of elemental power that boils and fries and cuts; they are strong, stronger than they had been a month ago. They haven’t given up hope. The God of Fear hasn’t chained them to despair.

He slowly cycles through the cards, and he feels his strength grow both stronger and weaker all at once. Each new Arcana gives him strength, but with each new Arcana he comes closer to the end, like the very stages of life each of them represents. The irony isn't lost on him. He would laugh, if he could have.

Midnight blue hair, blue eyes. He blinks. Now he sees copper brown hair, red eyes. Those two share the same blood, the same fate, but he is the link between them and these two parallel universes. A common factor, if you will; hasn’t he learned about those in class? He remains constant, regardless of who had been his host. The twins are different people, but they might as well share the same soul.

That gaze holds the same stubborn determination, the same pain. Looking into their eyes is like looking into still water; they are always what others want them to be. But there is nothing he blindly wishes to see in them, no role that he expects either the girl or boy to take. The only reflection in those eyes is himself, the thing of nightmares on the other side of the mirror.

An Evoker is raised calmly to the head, a flash of emotion in those eyes. “Lucifer!” There is a flash of light that would have been blinding if only he was human again, and an accompanying spike of pain lances through his body. Lucifer has always been strong, the brightest fragment of their soul that yarns to revolt.

However strong, the group is struggling, and he could see the sudden spurts of fear in everyone’s eyes, doubts. Perhaps they are finally seeing the futility of their situation.

It won’t be long now.

He can hear Nyx – Mother – whispering in the back of his mind, unintelligible still, but her voice is growing stronger. The Fall is imminent.

“Let us finish this. It is the path of your choosing.” He raises his hand towards the sky, a gesture in Mother’s honour. A rush of energy drains from him, and it rains down from the heavens, exploding on the ground. They all dive out of the way, but they regain their feet quick enough.

The leader – is it her, or is it him? He can’t tell anymore – yells out an order to regroup, and they obey. The fear is gone now, grim determination replacing it. Hope; that is what their leader stands for.

It won’t be long now.

There is more metal – swords and brass knuckles and knives and spears, arrows embedding themselves deep into him – carving against his hardened skin now. The elements took too much of a toll on their minds; they are wary of growing tired.

Mother is asking him about the pain she senses, about whether he wants her support, but he pretends not to hear.

The click of an Evoker, a quiet exhale of breath that might be a sigh, and Messiah materializes. For a split second, his eyes meet the white Persona’s, and what could have been pity flitted across that pale face before it raises its arms and spreads its wings, bathing the party in healing light.

There would be no such light for him.

The strikes continue to fall against his skin, and the impacts make a rhythmic melody that rang out across the otherwise silent roof. They are all too fatigued to call for their Personae.

Well, all, except for one.

“The time has come,” he says, and he looks straight into red – now blue – eyes as he swings his sword down towards the ground, sending a wave of power that has the rest stumbling. This is his last Arcana, his own, and that had been the last of his strength.

He is glad that any more words won’t be necessary. There is a small smile from him, a larger one from her, and a nearly imperceptible nod from both. He doesn’t know which mouth he is watching, or which world he is in, but he watches as the lips form the name and the Persona appear.

They really are like a mirror.

Thanatos’ strikes are relatively weak, but it is enough. It is an odd sensation to feel his legs fail and fall to his knees, to feel his head tilt back and his body be released of his control. Is he speaking? He can’t tell. Mother is summoning him now, and he is rising without his conscious will.

It’s too late. The Fall is here.

The gaping wound in the moon he doesn’t need to see with his own eyes; the pulses of power and the voice in his head tell him enough. Mother is awake.

…As is every human.

It is chaos’ reign in the city, but they can’t feel Mother’s power yet. On the top of the Tartarus, her power – her very presence – restrains all movement.

And yet, they still resist.

Even as they are pressed against the tiles under Mother’s omnipotent assault, they fight to pull themselves up. They can see the undefeatable being they stand against, and yet they are willing to face her head on.

… Perhaps this is what he likes most about humanity.

Even when all seems bleak, as impenetrable darkness shrouds all, they have hope.

And the one with infinite potential stands to shoulder it all. Mother can never be defeated, but she can sleep. With the Great Seal, and one’s selfless sacrifice, that is possible.

When it is all over, he answers the hopeful cries of the faithful comrades – is it for her or his sake? –, assures them of their future. He tells them of the miracle, but he doesn’t mention the cost.

They won’t remember anyway.

\+ + +

He wasn’t sure which world he was looking at anymore; the two had began to overlap and merge, the differences between the two melding until they were almost one as memories faded and bonds were buried. He kept watching, though, because he had promised to always be there for them, and the both of them deserved to have someone remember how they slowly wilted.

As Death, he could feel their life drain. It wouldn’t be long now.

The memories he had of the spring breeze weren’t his, but he could put a name to the feeling and that was good enough. The rooftop was unusually crowded, especially on Graduation Day; they had finally remembered.

Who was it that said parting was such sweet sorrow?

It was over quickly, near the end, because taking one month to die was already a long drawn-out death. He wasn’t visible, hadn’t had enough energy or power to manifest properly without Mother’s endless supply, but he knew that wouldn’t matter to the spectre that appeared a little ways away from the group.

Their appearances were superimposed over each other, all signs of life and memories draining out of them. The Seal needs nothing but their soul, their will. It wouldn’t be long now. “Minako, Minato,” he called out before he realized he had spoken, and they turn from their comrades to him.

“Ryoji.” He was greeted warmly, like they had just run into each other on the street, like they had never fought against each other for everyone’s souls.

“They’re not ready to let go,” Ryoji pointed out, and he got a smile in return.

“They will move on,” she answered, with absolute conviction. Midnight blue hair swayed as he nodded with that same assurance. “They won’t need me anymore.”

“Are you ready to leave?” he asked. He wasn’t afraid to admit he was surprised at their attitude.

She laughed, and he chuckled. “Leave? Who said I’m going to be leaving?” Minako was teasing him, Ryoji could tell, and even Minato was doing it, “I’m going be right here, watching over them.”

It hurt, knowing that neither of them was aware of what they were going to have to throw away. He smiled instead, “Then they won’t have anything to be afraid of.” There must be another topic, something other than the fate that awaited them both. “I enjoyed my time as a human.”

At his words, Minako pulled out the necklace sitting underneath her school uniform, a shiny ring dangling from it that somehow looked semi-transparent. It was identical to the one that Ryoji had on his finger right now.

Maybe there wasn’t a difference between the worlds now.

“I didn’t start living until I came – went,” Minako corrected cheerfully before Minato continued, “to Port Island, to Iwatodai. I don’t regret it; it’s been a great year.”

He nodded. He didn’t want to say anything to ruin their last moments. “I saw,” he said simply, genuinely, and Minako gave him a sunny smile.

“The joy and sorrow,” Minato started, and Minako added happily, “and the fun! It was the most fulfilling experience I’ve had since the accident.” That incident, ten years ago on the Moonlight Bridge, it was his fault –

In the next blink, the school rooftop was gone, and surrounding them was red, blood red, dotted with flecks that might have been stars. They were standing on nothing, a swirling fog whirling slowly around their legs. Minako and Minato turn as one to look over their shoulder at the giant gilded doors behind them.

Mother’s – Nyx’s – door.

“I guess my time is up,” she said blithely, and the smile never slipped on either of their faces as their arms are lifted to the height of their shoulders, as wire – barbed wire – wrapped around their wrists. “See you,” he bided Ryoji goodbye, and in the words there was a promise that they’d see each other again.

Ryoji just nodded as he watched them hold onto the wire with their hands, wrapping it around their slender fingers. He couldn’t find his voice. They were hoisted in front of the door, and then he couldn’t feel them anymore. Their soul was there, but the life that made them who they were was gone.

Death couldn’t cry.

Ryoji could.

 

 

 

 

“Did you know that breaking a mirror brings bad luck?” Ryoji says conversationally to the form suspended in front of the door. He is Death; he is allowed to be anywhere – everywhere – he wants, even if that place is the dimension before his Mother’s door. "Seven years of it, actually."

At the moment, he is in his human form. The twins’ friends would be able to see him.

But he won’t be here when they come. The life flowing through them allows him to pinpoint exactly where they are in the Abyss of Time, allows him to trace their exact path as they draw nearer. He will make sure he isn’t here when they come.

At the moment, they are stalled. Minato and Minako both would be appalled to learn that they are fighting amongst themselves. And to think, on Graduation Day, their thoughts had almost been the same…

“How long has it been? A day, a week, a month?” Time is a human concept; animals live in the now, and deities live forever. Without the twins to anchor him, it is hard to remember that time even exists. Things that had happened ten years ago – or is it eleven now? – are as raw in his mind as something that had happened yesterday, and his feelings remains untouched.

He doesn’t expect an answer, and he doesn’t receive one.

“Can you hear them coming?” he asks instead, his words lingering in the stagnant air.

They are moving now, and getting too close. Erebus is stirring, too; the rumbling behind him could only be that monster. It is probably going to try to pull the Seal out of place again. It isn’t prudent to stay any longer.

Ryoji stands, brushing off dust that wouldn’t matter when he blinks out of existence in the mortal plane, and smiles. “See you tomorrow, then.”

And he leaves, because he knows the Seal will hold, their friends will be alright, and Nyx will sleep.

He would be back soon anyway.


End file.
